


Terms of Endearment

by grahamcracker76



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, POV Alternating, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamcracker76/pseuds/grahamcracker76
Summary: It starts as a challenge. It ends up becoming so much more.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 11
Kudos: 152





	Terms of Endearment

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely inspired by the line “don’t call me Admiral, Spock” from The Voyage Home. I thought, Jim would totally suggest that Spock call him something else instead... and this fic was born!
> 
> If you haven’t seen the original movies yet you will still be able to read this fic, no problem. HOWEVER you definitely should watch them because they are awesome and Jim and Spock are so #married you won’t even believe it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this bit of fluff!

_“Don’t_ call me Admiral, Spock,” Jim says, exasperation mingling with good humor as he turns to smile at his stoic First Officer. “We’re supposed to be undercover, after all - the people will be suspicious.”

Spock glances sideways to meet Jim’s gaze, his lips thinning and his eyebrows drawing together. In anyone else, these small cues might be taken as a sign of annoyance. However, this is Spock, and as Spock himself repeatedly insists, Vulcans do not actually _experience_ annoyance; he merely speaks of such emotions as theoretical concepts. This of course means that Jim is free to _attempt_ to annoy him as much as he likes since if all is as Mr. Spock claims, such attempts should never succeed.

Jim grins wider at the thought - everyone who knows Spock is well aware that he does in fact experience emotions - he simply hates to acknowledge it, which makes it all the more fun to tease him. Spock’s nostrils flare in response, as if he knows precisely what Jim is thinking and has resigned himself to whatever friendly teasing Jim has in store. Spock’s back straightens, if possible, even more, and he exhales - in anyone else, it might have been a sigh.

“And what would you rather have me call you, if I am not to use your title?”

“You could just call me Jim. It is my name, after all - I know you know it, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s gaze turns inward, a little distant, and Jim knows they are both thinking of that day when they stood on the red sands under the hot Vulcan sun as Spock looked at them one by one and remembered who he was. “Jim,” Spock had said, gazing at him as though he were looking at a reflection of himself. “I have been and always shall be your friend,” he had said, like it was his own personal manifesto, and Jim could only nod silently in response. _Jim,_ Spock has said, as if he were the most important thing in the universe, and Jim would sacrifice the Enterprise a thousand times over if it meant he could hear Spock say his name like that again.

Jim flushes, and hastily clears his throat as Spock raises an inquisitive brow. “Or you could get creative,” he continues. “You could give me a good nickname,” he suggests, “or you could even try a few pet names if you want.”

A muscle in Spock’s jaw twitches - it is just the hint of emotion, but it is enough. Jim smiles wide.

“I fail to see how the use of such… terms of endearment would aid us in completing our mission,” Spock says, his voice dry. _“Admiral,”_ he adds pointedly.

Jim shakes his head and bursts into laughter, sharing his appreciation of the joke because he knows that Spock can’t (or more precisely, that he won’t). “You win this time, Mr. Spock,” he says cheerfully, “but the invitation is always open. Consider it a challenge, if you like.”

Spock raises a brow and Jim rolls his eyes, a smile still tugging at his lips. He settles back in his seat, pressed against Spock from thigh to shoulder, his First Officer’s presence a warm, solid line of comfort. Right now, he can’t imagine wishing to be anywhere else, even if they are stuck in the past trying to get a couple of humpback whales into the future in a desperate attempt to save their world. Everything is better when Spock is at his side, even if he is stubbornly refusing to call him Jim.

***

In the weeks following the successful return of the whales and the departure of the probe, Spock returns to that particular conversation again and again, turning it over in his mind.

He is fully aware that Jim never liked the title of Admiral, and that Jim never wanted the role.

While most people would have appreciated such a promotion, James Kirk is not most people. James Kirk belongs on the bridge of a starship - he always has and he always will. It is his first, best destiny, and it is not one that is easy to give up, just as it is not easy for a bird to be grounded, once it has known the pleasure of flight.

Spock knows that his friend had felt the loss keenly. He knows that Jim always hated being called “Admiral.” He saw the way Jim’s lips thinned and his shoulders drew inwards at the constant reminder that he was no longer a Captain. Spock saw, and he watched his friend suffer, and he could do nothing to help.

But now, Spock wonders. _Could_ he have done something to help? Would Jim’s suggestion of using “nicknames” or “pet names” have helped lessen the load on his friend’s shoulders?

Spock had dismissed the idea as wholly illogical at the time, but now, he thinks of it… and he wonders. He regrets that he did not help Jim more, knowing that he was hurting. Spock’s disposition makes it difficult for him to offer any sort of comfort, but he knows now that for Jim, he should have tried.

But regret, he tells himself, is illogical. No one can change what is past. All he can hope for is to do better in the future. Spock thinks back on their conversation, remembering. “The invitation is always open,” Jim had said. “Consider it a challenge, if you like.”

Spock sits back in his chair and begins to formulate a plan. _Challenge accepted_ , he thinks.

***

Jim is finishing his third mug of coffee of the morning when Spock strides onto the bridge that morning. “Good morning, Spock,” he says, and his First Officer merely nods in response, brisk and businesslike.

“I have the reports on the nebula as requested, sweetheart,” he says. “It appears that it may be an interesting source of energy we may want to investigate closer. I recommend we launch a probe for further study.”

Jim smiles. Trust Spock to be incredibly thorough in all things, even a simple nebula survey. “Thank you, Mr. Spock,” he says. Then, he frowns. “Did you just call me sweetheart?”

There are muted sounds of amusement from the rest of the bridge - Jim glances around to see Sulu muffling a snort in his shoulder and Uhura swinging her chair away from them a second too slowly to hide her grin. Chekov is not even attempting to hide his glee, his gaze flicking eagerly between the Captain and First Officer. Jim represses the urge to sigh. He has no doubt the whole ship will know of this little exchange by lunchtime.

Meanwhile, Spock is holding himself, if possible, more stiffly than before, his hands clasped tight behind his back. “I do not feel the need to repeat myself, Captain,” he says, his eyes fixed firmly on the wall behind Jim’s right shoulder. “I believe you will recall a conversation approximately 2.1 months ago, in which you issued me a challenge.”

Jim stares at Spock, trying to remember, and then… _oh._ Suddenly, he feels like laughing. He hadn’t ever thought that Spock would take him seriously, but this… this is better than anything he could have imagined. “So you’re finally taking me up on it?” he says happily. “I have to say, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Spock finally looks at him then, his lips twitching. “Then it appears I have the advantage. You did say the invitation was always open.”

Jim nods. “I did,” he agrees. Then, he pauses, studying Spock with interest. If Spock will go this far, then maybe, just maybe... “I wonder if I might also take up the challenge, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s eyebrows draw together. “I do not understand.”

“You come up with pet names for me; I come up with pet names for you,” Jim explains cheerfully. “Fair is fair, after all.”

Spock looks at him, a faint crease between his eyebrows. Jim gets the impression he is trying to think of ways to refuse the counter-offer and coming up with none. Spock briefly closes his eyes, and Jim knows he’s won. “If you insist, Captain,” Spock says.

“Excellent,” Jim declares. “This is going to be so much fun.” He smiles. “Babe,” he adds deliberately, waggling his eyebrows.

Spock looks up at the ceiling, and then back down at him, radiating disapproval from every pore. “Captain,” he says pointedly, and Jim pulls himself together, waving Spock away to his station.

“Hold position, Sulu,” he says. “We will prepare the probe for launch.”

Sulu nods, and Jim lets contentment spread through him as the crew goes about their business. This just got interesting. He has no idea what Spock is up to, but he’s sure it will be a fun journey.

***

Over the next two weeks, Spock uses various terms of endearment to refer to his Captain a total of nine times. He alternately slips them into casual conversation as if it is a normal matter of course, or he will use them if he ever senses the Captain is distracted by unnecessary brooding and needs to be “taken out of his own head” as the saying goes.

Each time, he delights in his friend’s reactions: the initial start of surprise; the stunned expression in the gaze that seeks out Spock’s; the slow smile that spreads over his face as if Jim still can’t quite believe that his First Officer is willingly engaging in such illogical behavior.

However, Spock is surprised to discover that this practice of using “pet names” as Jim calls them is not as illogical as he had initially assumed. He finds that when he refers to the Captain with a term of endearment, it can help to dissipate tension among the crew and even in the Captain himself. He takes note of the laughter that his comments provoke, and the easy camaraderie that settles among the crew in response. Each time, Jim’s eyes settle on Spock and remain there, a kind of warm pride in his expression that says he knows exactly what Spock is doing and approves wholeheartedly.

In return, Jim uses increasingly inventive terms of endearment to refer to him. For instance, Spock recalls the use of sweetheart, babe, darling, cupcake, honey, and sugar, among others.

On one such occasion (“hand me that padd, would you, sugar?”), Spock breathes out through his nose and gives Jim a Look. “I will never understand the human urge to turn so many baked goods into terms of endearment,” he says, his voice dry.

“Humans like sweet things, Spock,” Jim explains. “It’s just our way of saying that we find the object of our affection sweet, too.”

Spock frowns. “So it is a supremely illogical attempt to pay a compliment.”

“Got it in one,” Jim says. “Honey.”

Spock closes his eyes.

Jim smiles.

***

The next time it happens, they are in grave danger. They beamed down to attempt to assist in mediating a peace treaty only to find the rebels already lying in wait. Spock was hit the minute they materialized; Jim and the others managed to neutralize enough of the attackers to get Spock to safety. Now, they are huddled behind a warehouse as they wait for communications to be restored so they can beam out, and Spock’s blood is steadily soaking into the ground with each passing minute.

“Leave me,” Spock tells him, his eyes searching for Jim’s.

“Don’t try to talk,” Jim says tightly, checking for Spock’s pulse and feeling his forehead, his heart dropping when when Spock’s eyelids start to flutter closed. “Just stay with me. Just hold on a little longer and they’ll have us out soon; just stay with me…”

Spock’s mouth opens in a sigh, his hand seeking out Jim’s. “You must leave me, Jim,” Spock says again. “The odds of my survival are…” he swallows, and Jim knows how bad it is if Spock can’t come up with an exact figure, “not good.”

“Don’t tell me the odds,” Jim says desperately, twining their fingers together and squeezing tight. “Just stay with me, just keep breathing…”

“You must save yourself, Jim,” Spock manages quietly between labored breaths. “You are t’hy’la, the most dear… if you live it will be enough.”

“We will _both_ live, you stubborn Vulcan,” Jim grits through clenched teeth, shaking Spock’s shoulder as his eyelids slip closed again, his face going slack. “We will both live and I’m never leaving your side, do you hear me? I want to spend every day with you, sweetheart, I want forever, don’t give up on me now…”

Spock gives a faint sigh. “Jim,” he breathes, his fingers twitching faintly. “T’hy’la…”

Spock’s hand is cold in his, his skin is pale and ashen, and he barely twitches when Jim shakes his shoulder. Jim’s stomach drops, and he slaps Spock’s face, hard. “Spock!” he shouts, but Spock does not respond. Spock is barely breathing, and Jim imagines he can feel the life slipping from him minute by minute.

“No…” he moans, pressing his lips to Spock’s knuckles. “You can’t leave me now, I never even got to tell you…”

As if from a great distance, he hears the faint chirp of a communicator. He holds onto Spock’s hand desperately and doesn’t realize what it means until his vision turns silver and he rematerializes in sickbay, Bones examining him with frantic eyes.

“Save him,” he manages to gasp before the darkness takes him. _Please tell me we’re not too late. Save him and I will tell him… everything._

***

Spock blinks awake to the dim light of sickbay and a faint throbbing in his side. Spock winces, putting his hand to his ribs, and breathes.

“Nice of you to join us,” says Jim’s wry voice, and Spock turns his head to the side.

“Captain,” he says, and Jim’s face freezes.

“Don’t give me that,” the Captain insists fiercely, his hands clenching in his lap. “You nearly died, Spock, and now…” his breath hitches and he turns his face away, running a shaking hand through his hair. “How much do you remember?”

Spock frowns. His memory of the time on the planet is… hazy, to say the least, dimmed by overwhelming pain. He remembers the hard gravel pressing into his back; he remembers his blood slowly seeping through his uniform as his vision dimmed.

He remembers Jim, his worried gaze and his hand in Spock’s, still remaining by his side even when Spock begged that he go, that he save himself. He remembers… oh. He looks at Jim, who is looking back at him, soft and hesitant. He remembers calling Jim t’hy’la, the greatest secret of his heart. He remembers Jim’s desperate voice, he remembers… _forever._

Did the Captain mean it? Spock wonders. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Captain?” he says, pausing as his friend gives him a hard look. “Jim. I would not hold you to anything you said then. The situation was… dire. If you said something you did not mean, I would understand.”

Jim looks at him, his eyes clear. “I meant it,” he says simply. “Every word. But if you didn’t…”

“I did,” Spock says, and watches the smile spread across Jim’s face, slow and brilliant. Jim stands and crosses to Spock’s side, looking down at him and cupping Spock’s face in his hands.

“God, Spock,” he breathes, “I can’t even…” Jim smiles helplessly, his hair falling into his face, and Spock has never seen anything so beautiful. He wishes he could sit up and claim Jim’s lips with his own, but Jim’s fingers are warm against his face and Spock can feel his happiness through his skin and it is more than he ever dreamed of. It is better.

“On the planet,” Jim says, “you said something. You called me t’hy’la?”

Spock nods, one of his hands coming up to cover Jim’s own, and he threads their fingers together. Before, he was afraid of this. He was afraid of admitting all that Jim means to him. But now, he knows that nothing would be worse than being taken from Jim forever, never to see his smile or hear his laugh again. He knows that his fears are illogical. He knows all that they are to each other; he had only refused to believe.

“It is how I think of you,” he explains, his eyes on Jim’s. “It is why I agreed to this challenge, so I could find a way to show you. You are my friend. You are my brother. And, if you would wish… I would love you above all others.”

Jim’s eyes are wet, and his face is alight with hope. Spock’s breath catches at the look in Jim’s eyes and his heart beats unsteadily in side.

“Yes,” Jim breathes, his thumbs stroking gently along Spock’s temples. “Yes to all of it. I love you, Spock, and I never want to spend another day without you.”

“You are my t’hy’la,” Spock responds simply. “I would not have it any other way.”

***

In the end, their challenge draws to a close for the simple reason that it ceases to be a challenge. Instead, it becomes routine, to refer to his Captain with terms of endearment, and with terms of love. It becomes routine, to brush his fingers along Jim’s in the quiet moments they have together and to return Jim’s kisses and initiate some of his own. It becomes routine, to think of Jim as his sweetheart, as his beloved, and as his t’hy’la.

Sometimes, he wonders if they would ever have reached this point if it were not for the Captain’s challenge; if he had not been forced to consider his true feelings for his friend. But then, he concludes that this was always inevitable - there was always more than friendship between Spock and Jim. He is only grateful that they realized it when they did. Forever is a long time, after all, and he does not intend to waste a single moment when his t’hy’la is by his side.

***

E N D

***


End file.
